Captivity
by kaze no akatsuki
Summary: An intelligence gathering experience forces Lucifer out of his comfort zone, in more ways than one. The threat of unholy war hangs in the air, but that isn't going to stop him from indulging in more...mortal, curiosities. A fic examining the relationship between Lucifer and his siblings, as well as, pressingly, his lieutenant. LuciferXHomare...mostly.
1. Chapter 1

**Heyo! This is meant to be a very short (from me) fic that basically is just an excuse to do some character analysis on our Lucy boy and the of-yet revealed Beelzebub. (But also Lucifer and Homare's relationship because DAMN does that look suspicious.) **

**That said, you will note that the site does NOT list Homare Todou as a character – blasphemy! Well, you know now that she is a primary character here. And yes, that means some...intimate, moments lie ahead. However, this is not a _smut_ fic, per-se, for I can not physically bring myself to do those. Nope, nothing but angsty, awkward, ubiquitously-written sex scenes here. (I promise, though, I know my stuff. Term papers about sex in literature – they stay with you long after you write them). **

**So without further ado, I bring you some slightly angsty Lucifer and Homare stuff. **

**WARNING: Did I mention angst? Well you'll find plenty of it in pretty much anything I write, so it's a given by now. That said, and I simply _hate_ that I have to add this, but dudes, Lucifer_ isn't human. And non humans __don't abide by human rules__. _So no flaming me about it. There is also some rather lewd material in here as well, so be prepared for that. Needless to say, manga-verse on this one, but not necessarily my usual cannon-verse. If you follow me, you'll know. **

**DISCLAIMER: I wish I owned Lucifer, but alas, I only own my own rendition of him in a separate, non-fanfiction work. So, I don't own these characters, the brilliant Kazue Katou does. I also make no money off this work, as I don't like being in jail. **

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**CH I: Licking Flames**

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"_I was never meant to be_

_this painting's main centerpiece;_

_Hidden in a corner_

_my outlines are fading;_

_The days have turned into night,_

_darkness has consumed the light,_

_assume life of insanity,_

_Sayonara."_

**~ _Insanity, English Version_**_ by REN on YouTube, Original by Vocaloid. _

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"Let's roll!" the pilot shouted over the loud whirring of the helicopter blades. There was precious cargo aboard this vehicle, for Lucifer himself had to, for the first time in a long time, leave his base. He was not alone in this – Lieutenant Homare Todou accompanied him as she always did, serving as his primary line of defense in the case of an attack, though he was aware that the likelihood of that happening was small.

He was seldom required to ever leave his airbase, but this particular occasion was one that he rarely came upon, for his presence had been requested by a sibling he hadn't ever particularly had the chance to talk to – Beelzebub. In any other instance, he would have disregarded his brother's insistence that the higher King go to anyone, for doing so greatly threatened his personal safety. However, Beelzebub was insistent, and came with a good argument. His word had it that he had access to information, by way of the spiritual lines, that someone was working of their own accord to open a portal to Gehenna, and though failing miserably at it, that they were a persistent bunch, creating a hitch in Beelzebub's own work*. Such things normally would mean absolutely nothing to the King of Light, but he felt the tug of curiousity pull at his mind over this. Humans did many absurd and stupid things, and too often failed at it. It was one of the things he struggled, as a demon, to reconcile about man – their indomitable persistence, that is.

However, given the present tensions he had with Samael, he supposed it wouldn't be such a bad idea to at least investigate, although he definitely had his suspicions about it; hence, he kept Todou at his command and a backup team of armed men in the helicopter with him now. If he didn't have to use his power, he would not. He was, though, fully aware of the fact that his youngest of Kingly siblings may be trying to lure him away on purpose, as a tactical trap of kinds. A poorly thought one, but Lucifer could only gander at the way some of his younger siblings understood or thought about things, having been "alive" for so long that he could no longer remember his formative years.

"We will arrive at the prefecture in Hokkaido by evening, Sir." the co-pilot radioed to him. There was a moment of what Lucifer sensed was hesitant silence before the grizzled man spoke his mind. "Why, if I may have permission to speak freely, is Beelzebub of all people calling you way out there in no-man's land? Isn't that a bit...suspicious?" Lucifer called back his wandering thoughts, realizing with a strange indifference that he had been speculating about just that thing. "Beelzebub is not suited to human contact. Though ironically one of the more revered of us demon Kings, he is remarkably unaccustomed to their presence." Lucifer paused in thought. "He is a King of low standing, comparatively; however, he is not a presence to be taken lightly. He is, on the surface of things, more towards the general alignment of Samael on the matter of humanities preservation. However, he has his own ideas of how to go about that, and for that reason will not join his forces. Similarly, though he has expressed before a certain reverence for the Illuminati's mission, he will not join our side either."

"Sounds like he's a stubborn one." The pilot, young and aloof, replied. His co-pilot punched him in the arm, alerting him to his discretion. "Don't be rude to the Commander!"

"It's alright," Lucifer pacified them with a raised hand. "He is correct. Beelzebub is quite stubborn, but he is also trustworthy. He has strong morals for a demon, and though they don't exactly align with human impressions, he stands by them with an iron will." Lucifer watched the trees change from solid green to white out the window. "Our mission is not to persuade him to join our forces, nor dissuade him. We are simply doing reconnaissance, gathering intel."

"Commander, if you don't mind my saying so," Homare said thoughtfully. "Why would we take intelligence, in person no less, from such a vague source? Wouldn't intelligence from an ally be of more value?"

"Yes, it would." Lucifer replied simply. "However, if Beelzebub is going out of his way to bring _my_ attention to the matter...it is safe to assume that it can not be ignored." _'or it's a trap.' _Lucifer added mentally. _'However...though I have met him little, I have a sense that my younger brother is not the type to lie...unlike my other siblings.' _"As for meeting him on his terms, he would abide by no other. Given that humans often...struggle, to comprehend him, I suppose I can not blame him for that." Homare looked at her commander strangely for a moment.

It was always strange to her when he spoke so plainly like that, much less of empathetic feelings for another. Even if the empathy was purely cognitive, the softly disturbed look on his face made her wonder, too often for her own good, what exactly went on inside his mind.

The ride went smoothly for some time, an hour or possibly more. Lucifer himself didn't spend much time outside the confines of his bed, per medical necessity. He never really had – which made him a touch anxious as well as, if he were to judge it, excited, by this type of venture. It was not often that he was able to make such trips, to see the outside world. Looking out his window to the right, he could not deny that Assiah, unto itself, contained a kind of fragile beauty within its equally frail confines of life and death. To a demon such as he, death existed on a different perspective plane, for the death of his body did not necessarily mean the death of himself. For man, though, and all other things in Assiah, it was different. When they died, it would be a very, very long time until they could return via the process of reincarnation. For many, by the time their soul went through the process and was rebirthed, they could hardly be called the same being, and near always had lost any memory of their previous life.

A sudden jolt went through the helicopter, accompanied by a loud _thud_. The violent motion nearly made the demon king, lost in his own thoughts, lose his balance, causing him to grapple at the seat beside him, using another hand to brace against the co-pilot's seat.

"What was that?" He inquired.

"Commander, are you alright?" Homare placed a concerned, but careful hand on his arm. Lucifer had no time to respond as another jump lurched through the aircraft, followed by a loud, obnoxious beeping sound.

"Aw, crap!"

"What? What is it?" Homare, now leaning into the cockpit, asked direly.

"Birdstrike, I think." The pilot had to yell over the noise as the motor began to whine. "Shit! Brace, Brace!" He yelled back at her, the co-pilot motioning her to sit and strap in. Lucifer, head hurting from the high pitched whine, followed suit without being asked.

"What the hell is going on?!" Homare yelled at the co-pilot as a sickening kind of erratic motion began.

"We lost part of the steering." The co-pilot yelled back, looking surprisingly composed. "We hit something in the air, but we don't know what."

"At this altitude?!" Homare called back incredulously.

"Exactly!"

"Brace for impact! I can't land this thing gently!"

The sound of crunching and thrashing became deafening as the air vehicle landed none too gently among the junipers and firs, the bumpy, erratic movement making it difficult for Homare to keep her stomach contents inside her, though by some miracle she choked them down. The light around them darkened for what felt like eternity before a brilliant flash of white snow could be seen from the front windshield. Homare took a split second to look to her commander, who did not seem to quite comprehend the situation, and as she reflexively braced for the hard impact, also placed a her arm over his chest protectively, forcing him by some feat of strength she didn't know she had to sit as far back as he could.

The sound of metal caving in on itself was deafening. The after just a moment of skidding atop the snow, a dark figure identified to be a tree came into view, immediately followed by an even louder noise of indescribable intensity and violence, the windshield shattering into millions of tiny fragmets and scattering themselves through the cockpit and into the back seats. There was a hard, violent lurch – and then stillness. Silence, to the terrorized hearing of Lucifer; but Homare did not recover her full senses quite so readily, her head spinning and ears ringing so loud she thought her brain might explode.

It took several moments for Lucifer to put together his thoughts, though, having been taken just as off guard as his human counterparts. Was this an attack? He strained his tired ears to hear the backup helicopter, full of armed men, waging a battle above them, but no such sounds came. In fact, he didn't hear the vehicle at all, a strange thing that he blamed mostly on the trauma his delicate hearing had just been dealt. Doing a surroundings check, he noticed immediately that the air had a distinctive odour to it, and as he took in the smell, the taste of iron became strong on his tongue.

He turned to Homare then, who for all her while looked green in the face with nausea, her pupils dilated dramatically and hands noticably trembling as she fiddled with her buckle. She managed to undo it after a moment, Lucifer looking on placidly. She then reached up to the front, wincing as she did so. She checked the two pilots – and nearly retched at the sight of the older co-pilot's limp body, covered in gashes and oozing thick crimson onto the dash his body slumped against. But that wasn't necessarily what had shocked her – no, it was the very telling angle of his neck where his chin rested on top of the instrument panel that made her leery of even checking his vitals. Even if he were alive, he was surely paralyzed and not liable to live long, if the rivulets of red soaking through his uniform was any indication.

A sharp cough brought her attention to the pilot, who was also pretty gashed up, but not nearly as bad – looking back through the windshield, her senses finally picked up on the tree bark in front of her, which was situated to the co-pilot's side. She glanced downward momentarily, her eyes instinctively following the line of the tree – and glanced away again once she concluded sufficiently that the co-pilot was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, not ever going to walk out of this helicopter.

"Damn, that was a hard one." The pilot coughed again reflexively, the abrupt intrusion of cold air beginning to seep into his lungs. He looked over at his co-pilot, a glimmer of hope in his gaze. But the light shining there died as quickly as it came, a bizarre look of shock and resignation taking over his features. He knew at first glance too – the co pilot was dead.

"You've crashed before?" Homare replied to his statement.

"In pilot school, yeah. Every pilot does." He went to move and clutched his shoulder, gasping in pain.

"Ah, crap. Looks like I got slashed pretty good." He remarked, and as Homare studied the torn clothing under his hand, observed a significant amount of red fluid leaking into the cloth.

"Are you alright?"

Homare nearly jumped at the sound of her commander's voice, having momentarily forgotten in the rush that he was still sitting there, for he hadn't moved an inch since they landed. "Y-yes," She stammered in spite of herself. "I'm fine, but what about you?"

"I am not severely hurt." He stated bluntly. Homare felt...comforted, in a way, by the fact his composure remained unspeakably intact.

"Good," She paused, thinking, looking out her now broken window to the field of snow before them. A concerned expression crossed her face before she set herself into reluctant motion, her body feeling stiffer than it ever had, an involuntary limp befalling her as she stepped out into the snow, a piercing pain shooting up her left shin. She didn't dare look down to examine it, instead turning her confused attention to the sky.

"What is it?" Lucifer, following behind her, stated. He looked back to make sure the pilot got out of his straps without difficulty, the young man coming to stand awkwardly beside him. Compared to Lucifer, the man was fairly short, no taller, or perhaps even smaller than Homare.

"Where is the other helicopter?"

Lucifer turned his attention to the whiteish sky as well, a look of consternation crossing his face briefly. "I wondered that myself when I didn't hear them when we..." He looked back to the totalled helicopter as if expecting it to give him the word he was searching for. "...landed."

"You would think they saw us crash," the pilot said, running his hand through his short, brown hair. "So why aren't they here?"

"Good question. Maybe they went down too?" Homare postulated, looking to Lucifer as if for confirmation.

"No, I don't believe they did." He said simply. "We would be able to see some evidence of that, or else I would be able to hear it – but there is nothing there. Nothing to even sense." Lucifer's mind scrambled at the possibilities. He knew as well as they did that helicopters didn't just disappear. He hadn't heard them when they landed, but blamed that on the deafening effect of the crash. Could they have simply moved on? But how did they miss the crash?

A harsh gust of wind sent a flurry of agitated snow in their direction, the chill it brought with it biting Homare's flesh to the bone. She shuddered involuntarily – and remembered with a sharp clarity that she hated the cold.

"There's bad weather ahead." The pilot stated flatly. "That wind is cold, and we don't exactly have a warm base we can just jump into." His company stared at him, searching for the relevance of his statements. He huffed. "We ought to seek shelter, yeah?" His companions pondered his suggestion for a awkward moment of silence, broken only by the rush of the wind through the trees.

"He is right. For now, we are on our own." Lucifer agreed with a nod, seeing his lieutenant shudder violently, wrapping her arms around her instinctively to combat the sharp, icy wind. "We should seek shelter, likely for the evening. We can then discuss an effective method to reestablish communication with the other helicopter, or if we can't, then a way to make it to the base. I don't think we are too far off our course, but to walk there would probably take at least a day or more."

"You're right," the pilot said with a curt nod. It then occurred to Homare then, of all times, that she was unaware of the man's name. "And with a potential blizzard coming in, we'd better make it hasty. Or we – those of us that are human, anyway," He added, glancing at Lucifer briefly, "won't make it through the night." Lucifer nodded, watching with a curious, but subtle tilt of his head as Homare spared an almost threatening look to their pilot, as if expecting the demon to take offense to the statement. Though he spared nothing of the look on his face, he regarded the action as both bizarre and _almost_...endearing.

An hour of trudging through knee deep snow brought them up the side of a mountain, to a scraggly set of boulders and a weather-worn cliff. The pilot kept behind them some ways, and was slowing down as the slope increased. Homare, too, was beginning to wear down as they climbed, nearing the cliff face with a glimmer of hope – if anywhere was likely to have a sheltered area, it was a jagged cliff. Not exactly the most inviting-looking upon first impressions, what with all the sharp edges created by great sheets of basalt and slate that folded over the mountain like the scales of Yamata no Orochi, but as far as survival odds went...

Homare's shin ached from the cold, and she was half convinced there was a spiral fracture in there somewhere. Bones didn't ache like that and something not be damaged, though she couldn't feel more grateful that her injuries weren't more severe. As she went on, though, the pain got worse. Every step became a game of trying desperately not to flinch, leveling up as they came within a few hundred meters of the rocks to an ice-pick like stabbing, intense enough to make her feel slightly faint. Or maybe it was just because she hadn't eaten today? She didn't know.

"Homare?" Lucifer called her name, her _first_ name, and immediately captured her attention; unbeknownst to her, he had been trying for several attempts already, noticing her falling quickly behind and limping hard on her left leg. "Are you alright?" The question caught her off guard.

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"You don't look so 'fine'." The pilot, keeping just behind her, prepared to catch the lady if she fell over, said. He had gone back to the copter to retrieve a first aide kit and some blankets, holding them awkwardly in his arms. "You're hurt pretty bad, by the looks of that limp."

"Limp?" Homare quipped softly. When had she been limping?

"Yeah. C'mon, I think I see a little overhang we can rest under."

"I'm fine." Homare snapped defensively. It was a reflex, one she'd picked up growing up with four roudy brothers who couldn't have cared less in her youth.

"Lieutenant," Lucifer addressed her formally this time, stopping just in front of her, forcing her to stop as well. A strange compulsion to keep moving came over her as soon as they stopped, but she knew where the line was, and didn't bother toeing it. "You are injured." He stated simply, though there was a certain finality in his voice. "You need to rest." He said it with the same clandestine pall, but lacking as much force. It was more than just a statement – it was an order, and one she couldn't say she wanted to refuse.

They made it to a dark overhang with a diagonal buttress, and Homare felt a swell of relief when she seen that it was deeper than it initially looked, cutting back into the mountain by a good six meters or so. Plenty of room to keep the wind at bay and keep a fire going. They shuffled inside, with Lucifer taking the lead. Homare watched his body language closely, relying on his heightened senses to pick up on something her pain-fogged mind just didn't have the energy to.

"You two should rest. I can set out to gather supplies for a fire." Lucifer waited until Homare was nearly seated before saying such a thing, which caused her to rise abruptly with a concerned objection on her tongue. He raised a hand to halt it, feeling the itch of responsibility creeping up on him. He was entrusted with the welfare of his lieutenant just as much as she was him in this situation, and he would not stand for any sort of insubordination or arguing about it. Homare must have seen in his expression that he was not going to be coerced, for she sat back down reluctantly.

"I am feeling...remarkably well, actually." The statement seemed to surprise Lucifer almost as much as it's truth – though he had a healing gash upon his upper arm, it wasn't remotely painful to the touch. In fact, by some cruel irony, he felt _better_ today than he had in the long while he had spent aboard the airship. Perhaps there was some truth to the human expression of 'needing fresh air'. "Besides which, I am not perturbed by the cold in the same manner as you – I have much more energy to expend, and can utilize it to keep myself insulated, as it were. Now," He turned to the pilot, feeling a touch of pity extend from the recesses of his mind as he looked down at the kneeling man, who appeared the worst off, breathing harshly as he was. "Set up the blankets and use them to warm yourselves. I will return soon." He addressed the pilot briefly, turning as he did so before walking back out into the cold with just as frigid an air of nobility.

"Geeze, you'd almost think he cared." The pilot snarked with a sarcastic smile, shaking his head.

"What is your name?" Homare asked politely, purposefully ignoring his jab.

"Well, since you asked," he said with a dryer kind of sarcasm, "it's John."

"John?"

"American." He pointed with his uninjured hand to himself.

"Oh. Makes sense."

"What's that mean, 'makes sense'?" He complained with a comedic flourish. It failed to impress the stoic lieutenant.

"You're rude."

"Wha?" He palled, "it's not my fault Japanese people are so easy to offend."

"It's not just that." She glared at him weakly. He caught on, though, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"What, the 'commander'?" He huffed. "Scary guy, but I don't understand why you all act like dumb sheep around him. But then, I'm just a hired gun – a hired pilot in this case – so what do I know?" Homare balked a little at the admission.

"You're a – "

"Mercenary? Yeah, I guess you could say that. I go where the money takes me, basically." John said, fiddling with the blankets as he tried, without overexerting his injured shoulder, to lay one out. "I don't have loyalties to anybody, really."

"Not even the co-pilot?" Homare asked the question before her mind could stop her, subconsciously holding her breath as she awaited his reply. But rather than affronted, his response was to look down with a kind of weariness you would expect of a military man. "His name was Yamada. He was a pretty good man." John said quietly. "But I didn't know him before I was given a contract, which was about three days ago." the pilot raised his posture then, his voice holding a more resigned tone.

"I see." Several moments of quiet passed as John continued to fiddle with the blankets. Homare felt the icy ground begin to numb her backside, causing her to shift about uncomfortably.

"Here, take this." He called before tossing a felt blanket her way. "Unfortunately, there's only four blankets. So somebody's got to make do with laying on the cold ground, and personally I elect the creature that can't catch a cold."

"He doesn't sleep." Homare remarked softly, accepting the blanket. He tossed another at her, presumably to wrap herself with.

"Does he now?" John replied wittily. She wanted to scoff.

"That is to say he doesn't _need_ to sleep." She corrected. "None of the Ba'al, that I'm aware, do. They can sleep, if they want to, but it's not a biological necessity for them unless they're quite unwell."

"Hmf. Well then keep that blanket for yourself. You need it more than he does." Sensing that she was going to argue, he cut her off. "Look, you're like a nurse to him too, right?" She didn't respond to that. "You're a lieutenant in name, but you also look for his well-being, am I right?"

"Yes."

"Well, how are you supposed to do that if you aren't well yourself?" She seemed to ponder the idea a while, but didn't offer a reply. "Just keep the blanket, okay? No need to go sacrificing yourself for something that can't ever really die." She felt a hot retort on the tip of her tongue, but was interrupted by the return of her commander.

Lucifer returned with what he hoped was a sufficient amount of wood, having taken to stripping branches off the trees themselves for lack of any that weren't taxing to dig out of the snow. "Is this enough?" He asked casually, confused by the awkward atmosphere he walked in on.

"Yes, that should be plenty for one night." Homare said, her voice lilting with fatigue.

"Except it's wet." John pointed out with a disappointed look. "Wet wood will burn, but it's not going to be the...safest, of fires to sleep around. Wet wood splinters and pops, and can send embers shooting from a fire like it's a volcano." He sighed when Lucifer seemed, if anything, intrigued by his words. _'I guess someone like him really wouldn't need to know basic survival skills.' _"...but I digress, in weather like this, you aren't likely to find any dry."

"Thank you for stating the obvious." Homare barked at him, but it came off to the jaded man as though she was a chihuahua, rather than a rottweiler.

"What are you laughing at?" Homare growled when he let a chuckle slip from his throat. Good to know that blood loss hadn't gone to his brain – though considering things, Homare thought that it actually may have.

"You bark like a lapdog. It's cute, but not intimidating."

"Says the man who's shorter than I am."

Lucifer watched with a mix of curiosity and mild concern as the two bantered. The pilot, who was young and, according to his files, of foreign origin – he expected some amount of playfulness from. He did, after all, accept the offer to pilot the helicopter with absolute abandon, practically throwing himself at the idea. Lucifer later came to know that the man had a temptaint, and didn't seem to fear losing his life in the slightest. So he expected some reckless and brash behavior from him.

But his lieutenant was a different story. She was always such a reserved, quiet soul, and though she had a certain ferocity to her, and a quick wit, she wasn't the kind of person he would equate with being...childish, as he seen it, what with how she kept the banter going, even in his presence.

Lucifer set the wood down, and the distinctive clatter seemed to be the bell which ended their trivial conversation. He noticed then, that Homare was quite pale, and though the stiffness in her shoulders indicated that she was trying to stop them, shiver after shiver wracked her smallish body. Lucifer set about putting the wood into a semi-familiar pattern, and with a flick of his wrist and a small flicker of light, the wood began to smolder.

"The important thing is that it generates heat." He said absently, talking to seemingly no one. "As long as it smolders, it will keep warm. Open flames may be a challenge to render on such a damp surface." He spared a sidelong glance at the pilot, who pouted when he noticed the look.

_'Petulant one, isn't he?'_

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**Chapter one is done! I had intended on keeping the first two chapters together, but at nearly 8,200 words, wasn't sure that was a grand idea for a first chapter, lol. **

** Next chapter contains some explicit material – of...eh, dubious nature, I guess? All I know is that it isn't for the weary of heart. **

**Until next time!**

**(Also, if you liked this, could you hit that favourite/follow button at the bottom/top of the page? Yeah, works great as encouragement to keep the muses satisfied. And bonus – you can always remove it from your favourites/followed list if you decide that this is not for you at some point, so no obligation! Yay!) **


	2. Chapter 2

**Here we are again, fellow readers!**

**Now, this was NOT easy for me to pump out, even half-finished as it was when I began it. So I hope for my sake that you enjoy it – I had a serious trip down memory lane recalling the reading of a book called _How to Write Literature like a Professor,_ which I highly recommend if you are an aspiring author! It will teach you everything you need to know about writing _and_ reading novels. **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything, I'm just having fun speculating. **

**WARNING: Explicit content ahead! Angst too – and maybe just a little bit of a demon being a demon...or rather, I should say an angel being an angel. **

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**CH II: Abandon**

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"_...Holy water,_

_can not help you now._

_See, I've come to burn_

_Your Kingdom down;_

_And no rivers, and no lakes,_

_can put the fire out –_

_I'm gonna raise the stakes – _

_I'm gonna smoke you out..._

_'_

_...They can keep me alive_

_'til I tear the walls –_

_'til I slave your hearts,_

_and they take your souls;_

_'_

_But what have we done?_

_Can it be undone?_

_In the Evil's heart?_

_In the Evil's soul?..."_

_~ **Seven Devils**, Florence and the Machine. _

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Homare and the pilot both laid out blankets on the ground to insulate themselves, the man taking up a spot on the opposite side of the burning wood – something which Lucifer found odd, but didn't comment on. Perhaps he had the idea of being gentleman-like by giving lieutenant Homare space? He didn't know, and didn't dwell on the idea for long as said lieutenant spared him a very concerned expression.

"What is it?"

"It's just that..." She looked down at the blanket she fisted in her hands. "There's not another blanket for you. To keep warm with." John snorted from across the pile of wood.

"Aren't you the one who said he didn't need to sleep?" A look crossed Homare's face that reminded Lucifer vaguely of a child who'd been caught saying something they knew they shouldn't.

"T-that's true..." Her gaze avoided them both completely then as a sheepish expression dusted her face uncharacteristically with a pink hue.

"I will be fine without one, but thank you for your concern." Lucifer reassured with a polite, appeasing gesture. He discreetly kept a watch over his subordinate as she laid down, wondering why it was that she was acting _differently_. He was aware that humans had a different kind of mental fortitude – was the crash so jarring to her? It was true she had been injured, but her disposition did not indicate that it particularly bothered her, except for the limping she had done earlier.

Lucifer kept watch of both his subordinate and the fire as darkness fell – not that it seemed dark at all from the snow glare, which reflected the stray moonlight filtering through the snow clouds like a mirror, giving the evening a permanent, bluish twilight. As the night progressed, he felt a strand of fatigue pull at his eyelids, drawing them shut for a while. However, perpetually aware of his surroundings, he was drawn to open them when an unusual sense came over him. Looking about, his chromatic eyes fell upon his subordinate, watching her body tremble violently beneath the blanket. A glance to the pilot, now deeply sleeping, confirmed that he was not affected by the cold; in fact, Lucifer could not recall him shivering at any point, which was surprising since he had apparently fallen asleep without dressing his wound, though a stained cloth beside him would indicate that he had cleaned it up while Lucifer had been cat-napping. How long had his eyes been closed for? He did not know.

Homare held herself in a fetal position, her body rattling against a cold so harsh she nearly felt her bones shake. She had yet to fall asleep – how could she, when her body just could not keep its equilibrium? She shifted about before rising to shift her body parallel to the smoldering fire, which gave off only the dimmest of lights. She was about to turn over to shift the rest of her body to face the fire, but was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of her commander at her bedside.

"C-comander?" She stammered out after a moment, her jaw decidedly not wanting to cooperate.

"You are freezing." He said with a barely-there look of concern on his face. His voice was far more convincing though, making her feel obligated to wrap herself more tightly in the blanket.

"It's cold. Very cold." Her body shuddered violently as if to prove her point. She couldn't feel her face and her fingers and toes had begun to ache terribly – though in a way, the pain wasn't unwelcome. It distracted her from the rising panic that had been trying to eat it's way through her stomach like a worm ever since the helicopter crashed. But she refused to let her mind dwell on it, determined to starve the feeling of any attention until it went away on it's own.

Lucifer thought for a while as Homare continued about, lying herself parallel to the burning wood, which gave off a bit of heat – but evidently not enough to keep his subordinate comfortable. She would get sick if she stayed that cold, wouldn't she? Humans were such fragile little creatures like that after all. He was fairly convinced that Homare was no mere snowflake, prepared to melt at the slightest inconvenience – but he did consider that she was, in fact, human.

"You will fall ill if you do not warm yourself, correct?" Lucifer asked for confirmation before going through with what he intended – a thing which his subconscious reminded him sharply was a fairly dangerous thing to do. But he had no choice if he was to have his subordinate in top shape for tomorrows hike.

"Hm?" She made a tired noise at him. "W-well, not necessarily..." Homare tried stupidly to disguise her discomfort, doing so out of reflex. She immediately regretted it as the weight of piercing eyes fell on the back of her neck. She sighed, brushing off the uncomfortable feeling. "...but yes, there is a chance that I may become ill of this. But –" She tried to add that she hadn't been sick in years, but was cut off when she heard him come nearer. She turned a bewildered expression up at him, and found an almost blank one looking back, though a touch of concern still lingered there.

"May I lie beside you, then?" Her face changed to one of incredulity. "To keep you warmer?" He added imploringly, his body language becoming forcibly more relaxed. Was he being serious? Of course he was, this was Lucifer. He was always serious, and unlike his younger sibling, wasn't a compulsive liar or trickster. However, that didn't stop a flicker of suspicion from lighting up like a candle in Homare's chest. More than anything though, she felt an odd kind of embarrassment consume her, though she tried desperately not to show it.

Lucifer waited for Homare to finish fighting the blush off her face, understanding that it was something she would, as a female presumably, find a bit invasive – but she could be unfit to perform her duties in the future if she fell ill now, and they both could not afford that so long as Beelzebub was to be involved.

Eventually Lucifer received a nod of assent from his subordinate, who pulled aside the blanket for him as both a courtesy and an invitation. One which Lucifer was very, very cautious about accepting as he laid gently beside her, pulling the blanket over himself if only to trap his heat against her. He was perfectly aware of the many ways in which this could be considered indecent, and though he felt no inclination nor aversion to the actual act of lying beside her, he did consider the thought that she may not, and was so very careful not to touch her directly as such.

Her shivering subsided slowly, but the tension in her back told him she still wasn't comfortable. He presumed initially that that was because of his proximity to her, and was about to shift away – but was caught off guard when she instead shifted to move_ closer _to him until her back lightly touched his chest. The contact was not something he had been anticipating, and so now his own body went rigid, a sense of clarity, cold and sharp as a knife, cutting its way into his mind. A resurfacing awareness became him, not aided in the least by her smell. She shifted more, sensing the tension in his body, and moving as if to get away from it.

Had Lucifer been the wiser, he would have allowed this. But instead, he pushed even his own self-enforced boundaries and put a halting hand upon her waist, keeping his touch feather light. Realizing too late he had acted on compulsion and mentally berating himself for it, he let out a long breath and felt his muscles ease. "It's fine." He assured her in a whisper, breath touching the back of her neck like a ghost. He tried not to breathe the scent that wafted back to him, feeling suddenly unsure of his self control – a thing which rightly annoyed him to no end. But his ire was there and gone in an instant, and was not whatsoever betrayed by his body where it touched tenderly upon hers.

She relaxed after a moment of hesitation – she was suspicious of his intentions, and he didn't fault her for that. He felt her scent assault his senses once more as she heaved a deep breath, wondering if she was aware that she was currently in the estrus phase of her cycle. It had always struck Lucifer odd that human females went into such a sexually active state as frequently as they did, for they were a fairly monogamous species that often settled with a single partner after many tries.

It truly wasn't a wonder that male demons were known for harassing them, precisely because, from a demon point of view, they were always in heat. Moons passed by like days to a demon old as he, so it wasn't as if he was unfamiliar with her scent when she went through her most fertile periods. For the most part, he was adjusted to it, so he thought, catching whiffs of it now and then, but always feeling either unwell or uninterested. What disturbed and distracted him more was when she was bleeding, for he didn't quite understand the biological purpose of that either, except seemingly to draw attention from predators – himself included.

But for whatever reason, he noticed the scent of her ovulation pheromones more now than he ever had. He blamed their close proximity and indecent positioning for that, and damned himself when he felt the subtle stirring of a long forgotten urge lurch from his lower abdomen. Lust was not something he ever particularly felt inclined to, except on a sparingly objective case. He mated, if at all, for the express purpose of reproducing, which had its benefits – nephilim offspring were the basis for many of the clones, after all, his own included. But it had been decades since those days, and though the urge did occasionally strike him at the odd hour, when he was alone and bored, he merely shrugged it off and pleasured himself as needed. This, though – this was not a stubborn stiffening of his member caused by heightened blood flow that then became inconvenient to him, no. This was nothing shy of desire to mate, to breed with the fertile female lying beside him.

And it aggravated him so, that his instinctive urges were beginning to stir even as he tried to rationalize them away. He knew it was not logically wise to bed with her, his lieutenant. He had considered it in the beginning of their relationship, but dismissed those primitive urges as just that – primitive. Not worth addressing, because it would ultimately give the monogamy-prone human an idea he didn't want her to carry on with. In order for his organization to run smoothly, there had to be a certain kind of order to things, a sense of professionalism and hierarchy. And tempting as the idea was sometimes, screwing his subordinates was just going to make things messy. _Messy_ was something he could not often afford the patience for when his body was in pain, as so often it was.

Lucifer felt her suddenly tense beside him again, and much to his both surprise and dismay, he had found his body moving of its own accord, bringing his lips dangerously close to the back of her neck, his breath causing condensation to form there, though he knew that some of the dampness was from her sweat. Disappointed that he had fallen out to his impulses yet again, he considered leaving her, pulling away as he did so – but was surprised when she seemed reluctant to let him leave, her hand quickly alighting upon his beneath the blanket. It was then, as she cautiously pushed her body back to his, pressing her hips upon his abdomen, that he breathed her scent deeply, catching the telling tinge of something acidic. She was aroused.

An internal conflict waged itself in Lucifer then, his instincts more than gladly jumping at the opportunity to lay her, to let his growing member sink into her supple flesh as it so yearned now to do. But his mind refused – he knew it would just create problems down the road. Humans were such silly, sentimental creatures that would and could pair bond with just about everything. Demons, by contrast, only pair bonded once in a very great while, if ever at all, and like humans, often kept to one mate for the rest of their lives thereafter. This made pair bonding a very rare occurrence, for not many demons could tolerate each other for eternity. Ancient as Lucifer was, he had only come to be affectionate for a small handful of individuals, none of them human. And he had not pair bonded to anything, either. So if his subordinate were to get the wrong idea about him bedding her...

His body didn't want to listen to his musings, and kept itself busy as he did so gently stroking her hip and lower back with his fingertips, his face once more following the nose attached to it, bringing it close to her neck, and as he inhaled deeply to sigh, prepared to reject her, he realized what he had been doing, and more so that her scent betrayed her delight of his ministrations, made clearer by her leaning back into him, shifting her hips and bottom shamelessly against his own member, pushing the hardening flesh against his abdomen. The sensation of the cloth sliding over the excited thing made him jump a bit, losing his train of thought for just a moment.

She leaned her back into him harder, pushing herself flush against him with obvious intent. She was _definitely_ in the midst of her fertile period.

"No." He said firmly, halting her movements with a harder grip on her hip. He realized too late that his tone seemed threatening, and took a breath to calm himself. "No, Homare."

She seemed to deliberate his order, her own hormones likely clouding her judgment. "We can not." He affirmed, deterringly. "It would breach our existing relationship." He reminded her, knowing that professionalism was just as important to her as it was to him. Satisfied that he made his point, he prepared to pull away, and was left bewildered by his senses, which told him not to remove himself from her yet. As he lingered, she seemed to make a resolution, turning onto her belly before half-turning again to face him. He expected her expression to be one of deep shame, for it was truly unlike her to behave in such a wanton manner. But instead he found her glassy eyes to be filled with a kind of painful want. Like a child being tempted with a treat they couldn't reach of their own accord.

"You don't think I know that?" She said, her voice strange. Her eyes then avoided his, looking to his chest instead. "I know its not professional. I know it's not the right thing to do." Her voice was just a breath, a whisper below a whisper. "_But that is entirely why I want it_."

"And you are certain you could live with the consequences?" He rebuked. A mating between them now was almost guaranteed to result in offspring, which was another consideration he had for coupling her. The Todou line was one with demon genes of their own, making their union doubly likely to produce life. Homare was a strong woman, but he had some reservations about her being willing to abort the life he planted inside her with his seed, if for no other reason than because she held him in such a high regard as to, perhaps, regard it as equally sacred.

"...Yes." She said after a moment of deliberation. "I will terminate, if such is required." So she was aware of what he was asking of her. "Please." She asked quietly, her eyes finding his neck as her fingertips found the midline of his chest, stroking him as one might a bird, with only the most respectful of touches.

"Why do you yearn for this?" He asked suddenly. The question seemed to catch her off guard.

"I...don't know." She replied honestly. "But I know that this is the only opportunity I will ever get to touch you like this. And the only opportunity you will get to satisfy your urges with me, specifically." She stated this in a surprisingly affirmative way, in spite of knowing that he could very easily overpower her if he so desired to. It made his member throb, reminding him of those very urges she attested to.

"And if I still refuse?" He challenged. She thought on it a moment, then removing her fingers from his chest, merely shrugged. "Then you will never know what I feel like beneath you – what I _really_ feel like."

Lucifer cursed the seductive nature of her tone, wondering why he didn't accept her distance from him before. But it was too late now.

"Please." She asked again, begged. She touched his collar wistfully before stroking his neck. "Please." She pulled back to look at his face, something which she needed to crane her neck to do. Lucifer felt the last pull of his instincts bring him forward then, his nose finding her throat, and the alluring smells it held, entirely too welcoming.

Homare felt his lips meet her neck and froze, letting her body go lax when, a moment later, a soft, wet tongue followed, lathing over the skin on her neck in small, slow strokes. She felt his hands find her hip again, pulling her toward him. She completed the distance, letting her leg slip momentarily between his, pushing her hips toward him eagerly. She felt a familiar tightness in her nethers when she felt his stiffening appendage press into her lower abdomen. He pulled her to him tighter then, letting her know that he reciprocated the desire, his hips shifting against hers in an ancient, but no less familiar motion.

Lucifer moved his tongue over her neck experimentally, stopping only when he found the point of her throat, which was now submissively exposed to his ministrations. He felt another, different desire creep up on him for a moment, far darker in its intentions. Determined not to let himself lose to two primal urges in one day, he blatantly ignored the sudden urge to sink his fangs deep into that pale, tender flesh borne before him, and instead opened his mouth as if to engulf her trachea and jugulars, only letting his teeth just barely scrape the salty skin before dragging them back, using his lips and tongue to suckle provocatively at the threatened flesh. This brought a very noticeable rise from Homare, who sighed involuntarily, her back arching to bring her lower body closer to his, while also baring her neck wider, inviting him to continue.

Lucifer felt the curves of her body with his hands, shamelessly letting them run her length from collarbone to buttocks. He settled at the latter for a time, his lust urging his hips desperately as he all but rutted his member against her. He would never admit it to another soul, but he did, every so often, find the rounded rear of the casual passerby to spark a half-lived idea into his mind. If he were to assume anything of it, it was that that was the part of the body he had equated with sexual attraction more than any other, seeing as how demons, and demonesses, preferred to mate front to back as opposed to facing one another. There was no particularly personal reason for this, though it was true that mating demons were quite often strangers to one another – no, it was not, per-se, a personal or cultural oddity, but rather a physical one.

Unbeknownst to her, Homare was currently gaining a feel for that reason, her nerves picking up in both excitement and trepidation as she felt the full length of his hardness press eagerly into her body – and though it aroused her to no end, she could not help but feel a bit intimidated by the appendage, which ran squarely from it's origin between his legs all the way up to his navel, making it press a bit awkwardly against her stomach as he groped her rear end sensually before thrusting hard into her soft body, his own making a sound demand for stimulation.

Homare almost didn't want to believe for a moment, how long and girthy her commander seemed to be, and decided on a whim that she would affirm her suspicions and provide his body with the sensations it craved all at once. She slipped her hand, which had been stroking his neck tenderly, and brought it between their bodies, beginning at the tip of his manhood where it did, indeed, begin at his navel, and stroking down it's length until she reached the base. His legs shifted as she did this, freeing her to hook one of her own over his hip and, at last, feel his stiff flesh press against her sore one.

He sucked hard at her neck where it met her jawline, coaxing out a soft moan. She felt her head roll back as he ground shamelessly into her womanhood, keeping a tight grip of her upper thigh as he did so. A soft pinch at her neck, and she became increasingly curious if he had intentions of biting her. Not afraid, merely ponderous.

Lucifer felt his instincts compelling him to go faster than he wanted to, nipping at her neck as an impatient indication. It took a moment for him to recall that she was human, not demoness, and would not understand the cue to lie chest-down for mounting. He pulled away to address this concern, and was met with soft lips touching upon his own in a way which was both intoxicatingly shameless and respectfully gentle at the same time. He reciprocated her kiss when she offered to go no farther, quickly evolving it into a war of tongues. She tasted just as divine as she smelled, and Lucifer could not help but feel a little overwhelmed by it all. It had been decades, after all, since he last indulged in this sinful pleasure of the flesh – and idea which should have aided him in getting his mind straight, but now only seemed to fuel his inner fire.

She placed her hands against the back of his neck, pulling softly at the strands of hair that fell there – and that was the last straw to fall upon his reservation. Lucifer suddenly threw his weight atop his subordinate, who seemed a bit confused when he broke their kiss, a pleading look searching desperately for some sign of consent. A monster he may be in the eyes of man, but he would not go looking for trouble where it wasn't warranted. He took the moment to compose himself only barely, asking her with the tone of an order given : "Flip over."

She looked dazed and confused for a moment before obeying, flipping carefully onto her stomach. He leaned over her, fondling with his belt. "It will be much easier to accommodate me this way – for both of us." He explained breathlessly, freeing his trapped member at last. The sudden exposure to cold air made it twitch, sending a spark of pleasure jolting up his spine and encouraging him to place an equally cold hand onto the flushed appendage, gripping it tightly as if to keep it from going anywhere. Anywhere that wasn't ready for it, that is.

He leaned over her full body, letting his stiffness touch her backside. He resisted the urge to thrust. "Lift your hips." He whispered against the back of her ear, his tongue gracing the area with a pleasantly wet sensation. She obeyed, and took further incentive to unfasten her own pants, leaving Lucifer to swiftly slip his flattened palm into their depths.

His fingers swiftly found her most pleasant place, the rounded bundle of delicate nerves enticing Homare to jump when they were abruptly being brushed against and rubbed around in soft, but quick circles. Lucifer alternated between these motions and running his finger up and down it's full length as if it were like his own, starting where her folds began and running down until his fingertip just barely cupped the delicate hood that the organ permanently hid beneath.

With his other hand he kept his own member busy, pushing and pulling the foreskin over the glans, his pace slow enough not to work himself up, but just enough to keep the beast at bay until his bedmate was prepared for penetration. He wasted no time then, working his other hand into her, delving his longest fingers into her vulva completely, sucking in a breath at the warm, sticky wetness. She felt soft. his fingers moved in and out of her several times before curling in a beckoning motion, causing her to vocalize more.

"Shhh." He quieted her, his nose smelling deeply along the back of her neck. Her unique scent was strong there, and he once more felt compelled to nip at the salty flesh, his teeth lightly pinching it. She did not react in pain, but instead drew herself back upon his member, her vulva quivering around his damp fingers as he retrieved them.

She layed flat again, pushing her garments down to expose herself for his entry, the sight strangely erotic for the old demon. As soon as her hips began to rise, he grappled them with firm, clawed hands, mounting her compulsively. The sharp pinch of his fangs at the nape of her neck was also a purely demonic compulsion, for biting made the cranky demoness far more tame when it came time to insert his long, and therefore potentially uncomfortable, penis.

Lucifer decided when his tip touched her entrance that she was not, perhaps, quite wet enough. To penetrate her now would doubtlessly cause her pain, and true to his instincts being wary of an injured, and therefore aggressive, mate, he held back a bit, instead letting his length pull in and out of the space between her legs, giving that pea-like bundle of nerves the exact kind of stimulation they were designed for.

Homare panted hot breaths against the blanket, both her and her to-be lover seemingly unaware of the very aware company they had lying deathly still just across the fire-pile.

John knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what they were doing. And he'd be lying to say his own body didn't ache for such a touch, but moreso it just ached, his shoulder having been the thing which awoke him, not the shifting and sighing bodies across the pile of smoldering sticks. He had to applaud them for not only being quiet, but also having the gall to 'do it' with a stranger sleeping only a few feet away. As he heard a soft moan and more shuffling, indicating, he would assume, a change in positioning, he rather wished he had stayed asleep in spite of his pain. It wasn't like he hadn't suspected that they had that sort of relationship – after all, lieutenant Todou was quite the little worshipper when it came to her 'God'. But he had more or less denied the idea as a reality, for surely no sheep would be dumb enough to let a wolf not only rule over them in the guise of a twisted shepard, but quite literally fuck them over, too?

Apparently, there was.

Homare squeaked a little when his girth began to penetrate her, feeling her body at once joyously accept and viciously deny his intrusion. A part of her body, deep within her lower abdomen, pleaded with her silently for him to fill in all her spaces, to make her feel so full she would want to puke. But another part of it, specifically the strong and quaking muscles of her entrance, wanted all the world to shove his enourmous length out of her, the strain making her feel like she was being pinched or stabbed.

Lucifer registered her discomfort, and went slowly, sinking centimeter by centimeter into her supple flesh as it parted ways for him with equal parts eagerness and rebuttal. He laid his body on top of hers, his chest falling to meet her upper back in the hopes that the contact would be encouraging, letting her body relax enough to realize that the presence of his body parts within her walls was not a thing to be feared.

It worked, and all of her muscles seemed to go lax for a moment. Taking the opportunity, Lucifer at once sunk his hardened member deeper into her, going in so far as to feel the beginning of her womb; then, in the same motion, pulled back his length by half. Homare made a quiet, keening sound under her breath, her body bowing in approval, chest planted firmly into the ground. He repeated the movement, feeling his breath catch in his throat and his head fall back when his foreskin, pulled back into place by his retreat, slid back over the glans within her. Straightening his posture, he began a steady rhythm, watching, transfixed, as his body joined with hers again and again.

It didn't take nearly as long as he expected before he felt that familiar tightening at the base of his member, alerting him to the fact he was about to come, to spill his sweet, sweet seed into her fertile womb. He picked up the pace as a means of alerting her, choosing once more to hover his panting body above the arch in hers where she all but writhed beneath him, her face flush and bottom colliding into his hips with every thrust as she began to push back on him, urging him on. She was close, too.

She finished before he did, letting out a gasped groan as her legs began to quake, her vulva contracting around his length tellingly. He then shifted into a certain, senseless kind of modality, gripping her punishingly with his claws around her hips and thrusting impossibly deep into her cavity. He kept a fast pace, but began to thrust harder, bringing himself nearer to completion. As his member twitched and his seed began to flow, he thrust harder yet, bringing himself as deep and close to her womb as possible. He then halted altogether once he was as deep as he could possibly go, pushing into her with half his weight as he did so. His member spasmed orgasmically, his seed pouring from the tip profusely enough to swell within her, and as her own body gave a final contraction, to push a few rivulets out before he had even finished his work.

It took several moments for him to come down from the high, his restless member losing some of it's spunk. He remained positioned deeply inside her for several moments more, not only to calm, but also as a measure of catatonic instinct. There was a reason he did not often share his brother's shameless ability to mate whenever, wherever. He was vulnerable as he came down from the rise, because his body would not allow him to remove himself willingly for _at least_ a few seconds. In the right sort of demoness, that length could be up to several hours, but thankfully humans lacked the sometimes-painful clamping mechanisms that females could have in order to keep a male stuck to her until there was no uncertainty about fertilization. After all, there was no guarantee, in some situations, that they would get the opportunity to mate with that demon again.

He thrust lazily into her a few more times before drawing out of her with a wet pop, his head hanging against his chest as he attempted to regain his composure. Homare let her hips slump to the ground in exhaustion, a soreness beginning to creep into her perineum. She hadn't expected him to thrust so hard or so deeply toward the end, but supposed she should have. He was, after all, much stronger than her, no matter how fragile his body would seem. She felt the sting of bruises on her hipbones, and knew there would be marks from his teeth on her neck. They said the best sex left evidence, right?

Lucifer wiped down his member with his hand, flicking the cooling semen onto the floor, aiming for the fire. He cursed, not for the first time, the quantity of the fluid his body could produce. It always left a messy endeavor, be it mating or masturbating.

Homare caught her breath, reluctantly rolling away and lifting her legs to remove her pants entirely, deciding that she'd gone commando enough times in her life that she could live without panties, sacrificing them to clean herself up a bit more. It was a strange, but not uncomfortable sensation when his seed seeped out of her body, though it was annoying that she had to keep wiping it up. Suddenly, and with nary a word from the man who put it there, Lucifer helped her along, using his nimble fingertips to gently paw the white, sticky mess from her buttocks. He flung the stuff again into the fire, the hissing sound of it's contact being the only noise for some time.

After she had been cleaned, and both of their clothing's restored to their rightful places, Lucifer laid beside her once more, considerably less shy of keeping physical contact. No words were said, for none were needed. Neither felt it necessary to mention what they'd done, for it was over now.

Homare felt the pull of sleep fall heavy on her mind, and before she could dwell on the future consequences of her actions, fell into a comfortable sleep, her commander spooning behind her, breath steady and calming on the back of her neck.

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**Chapter two done! **

**I don't have any idea where this is going, for once, I'm just making it up as I go. So if updates are slow, I apologize. **

**Also, if you liked this and wish to see where this is going (or have suggestions? I'm cool with that, and if I use your stuff, I'll definitely do a shoutout/credit) could you, maybe, add it to your follow/favourite, or leave a review? Those are nice ways to inspire the muse to keep this story going. Thank you! **


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